Dreams and Reality
by Anoyo
Summary: Short piece involving the interaction of Hisoka and his father at some undisclosed time after GensouKai Arc, though no spoilers in the future. They meet, Hisoka stares, Nagare is apathetic, all is good. Some Tsusoka if you really want to see it.


I don't own Yami no Matsuei. Don't even pretend to. Thanks.

Challenge fic for Muses of Meifu: Nagare-Hisoka gen fic.

Dreams and reality: the two extremes of human existence. A dream is that which could be and reality is that which is. But there are times in life where the two merge, and there are times when events are indiscernible between the two.

This "dreamlike reality" could be deemed something of a plague, I suppose, if one were to be morbid. It isn't choosey about its victims: all you need is a past, a hope, and a future; a present is only nominal. I'd like to say that these false realities are something written in the clouds by fate, little, unreasonable truths that come, go, and change form with the temperament of the wind.

I daresay we all fall prey to them at some turning point in our lives; they are a crucial step on the path to emotional ascension. Being rarities for the sane, they must feel their presence is one of great import and then decide -- without the approval or sign-off of those they've claimed for action -- to forcefully enact the resolution to one of a soul's greatest fears. I don't speak of "greatest fears" in terms of some obscure or apparent phobia; no, I speak of those breath-rendering things that we dare not even contemplate for fear of their physical happening. Everyone has at least one; all you have to do is think back.

Perhaps there was a time when you were locked in a room, or locked out of one, or forgotten. Perhaps you were abused, or kidnapped, or left to fend for yourself. They're those little things that fuel your progression in life; the memorial Gods who place the road blocks in your way. The phrase, "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," was created in reference to these things.

They're what drive a man mad, but they're also what qualify a boy in becoming something greater. To overcome these fears is to hold your head high in the face of imminent destruction. If you can beat the intrinsic fears your mind has molded to the folds of your humanity, you can do anything.

Unfortunately, defeating these fears requires confronting them, something no one would ever do voluntarily. This is where "dreamlike reality" comes into play. It takes over your mind and gives you a bit of added "oomph." Then it throws you by the seat of your pants into the melee you fear so much, be it a situation or lack thereof.

For myself, this was a confrontation with my father. Rather accidentally, I'm sure, I found myself face-to-face with the subconscious -- and perhaps more than that -- cause of my paranoia.

Tsuzuki and I were called on mission to a small out-of-the-way village that was boasting the national archery competition. Packed as the bloody thing was, the people forcing my empathy into a dull roar, I didn't sense the nearing of the Kurosaki Head until I'd collided with him head-on, sending us both sprawling on the ground.

Embarrassed, I stammered, "Excuse me!" and shot to my feet, apologizing repeatedly. When he sighed and raised his face to look me in the eye, I'm amazed I didn't have a heart attack. As it were, I settled for stuttering unintelligibly.

Kurosaki stood on his own while I, wide-eyed and tense, stared at him. I believe my exact though was, "How am I supposed to explain that I'm dead?" Of course, he knew I was dead, but a shocked brain isn't a particularly rational one. As I panicked, my father regarded me calmly, an appraising look in his eye. If he had been surprised to see me, he didn't let it show.

With a slight nod, he said, "Hisoka," and that was all. Here is where the dreamlike reality began to set in, and I retuned my stare from "oh my God" to "that's all?"

When I finally managed to speak, my vocal chords seemed to feel they needed to make up for lost time, and words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Aren't you surprised to see me?" I asked incredulously, my voice a little higher than I would have otherwise liked. As it stood, I was a bit past caring.

"A bit, yes," Kurosaki replied, a slight smirk forming on his lips. I was somewhat amazed at his outward good humor, but gave it to the fact that people can change substantially in seven years. I was a stellar example of that, myself. "However, knowing of the _Shinigami_, my only surprise is in your being one, I'm afraid."

I puzzled for a moment, the last of the added courage coming into play. I did remember the suspicious actions of Tatsumi-san and Watari after my return from the Gensoukai, but they hadn't registered with anything other than a mild curiosity. Knowing the full story, now, I can see where my father would have been able to remain calm. Though he may have done so with no alternate knowledge; I suppose I'll never know. "I died with regrets," I replied cryptically, a vain attempt at revenge through curiosity.

My father inclined his head in brief understanding. "You should return to your position," he said, nodding with his eyes and looking briefly in the direction where I was to meet Tsuzuki.

I nodded, turning and walking away, feeling his gaze on me long past the point where he should have me to the crowd.

I met up with Tsuzuki, serenity on my features. My observant partner made no remark to me at the time, but spoke up when I recounted the tale later, admitting that I looked to have come from a battle, triumphant and wise. The dreamlike reality had served its purpose: the burden of my father's misplaced hatred was lifted from my shoulders and sent winging into the sky.

Looking back, I know something other than myself drove my motions, actions, and reactions that day. A "dreamlike reality" may be my lowly cop-out, but I don't know how else to put it. And I don't wish to.

All I knew was this: finally, I could reflect on my father with the respect his soul was due.


End file.
